


Auld Aquaintance

by Cori Lannam (corilannam)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:55:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28728456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corilannam/pseuds/Cori%20Lannam
Summary: Attending Arthur and Gwen's annual post-holiday party, Merlin encounters the woman who broke his heart--and is the only one who can fix it.
Relationships: Merlin/Morgana (Merlin)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 34
Collections: Merlin Holidays 2020





	Auld Aquaintance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AJsRandom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJsRandom/gifts).



> Happy Merlin Holidays, AJsRandom!

Even before they turned the corner onto Arthur and Gwen’s street, Merlin could hear the pulsing beat of Gwen’s party playlist. Magic accompanied the sound, tickling just inside his ears, muffling the crunch of snow under their feet.

“Is it just me, or does it get louder every year?”

Next to him, Gwaine stuck the tip of his pinky finger into his ear and wiggled it around with a grimace. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice not to get the noise complaints anymore, ever since you and Mor—”

The awkwardness hung in the air for a short moment while Gwaine pretended he hadn’t just bitten his own tongue. Merlin huffed a sigh and watched it crystallise in front of him. He was tired—tired of his friends walking on eggshells around him, tired of Morgana being _gone_. Almost certainly too tired for the annual Pendragon Post-Holiday Party Perilous, but as with the rest of it, he would put on a good face.

“Yes, that was some of our best work,” he said with passable cheer. “Enchanting the amps so only people invited to the party was my genius idea, but it was Morgana’s spell mastery that made it work.”

Gwaine shot him a gentle, sidelong look. Then he slung his arm around Merlin’s neck, catching Merlin’s head in the crook of his elbow and giving him a squeeze of rough affection. “Team work makes the dream work, yeah? Now, you and me, mate, we’re going to be the dream team tonight.”

“Are we?” Merlin returned the sidelong look with a wry smile. He’d had a premonition that his friends would be competing for the chance to be his wingman tonight, so close to the anniversary of Morgana’s departure.

“That’s right. We’re fashionably late, so all the single ladies with standards will have already got themselves paired up. That leaves the ones actually in our league, and brother, you are not striking out tonight.”

Merlin laughed, shook his head, and paused at the front gate of the Pendragon townhouse. The music was really starting to hurt his inner ear. Wrapping his scarf around his entire head might muffle it, but even if Gwaine let him walk into the party that way, Arthur would have it off him in seconds lest Merlin embarrass him at his own party.

Instead, Merlin set his shoulders and resigned himself to his fate. He lifted his hand and twisted his fingers in the air. A tendril of magical intent swirled up around his head, brushing out the snowflakes and styling his hair in little licks.

“Oh, do me, do me.” Gwaine pulled off his hat and shook out his long hair.

“Nah, can’t give you any advantages,” Merlin said and pushed open the gate.

When he opened the door, it felt like releasing a sonic boom of R&B right into his face. He blinked, and a had a moment to contemplate whether he was getting old, before he focused on Gwen’s smiling face coming towards them.

“Merlin!” she called, arms opening to him. Or at least that was what he assumed she was saying.

He pulled her into a tight hug and ducked his head to get his mouth next to her ear. “You’ve gone drunk with power.”

“I know!” She pulled back and waved her phone in his face, the app controlling their sound system open on the screen. He could almost hear her giggle. “You and Morgana only have yourselves to—”

Merlin winced when she cut herself off and her face sobered. “Look, Gwennie—”

“Arthur needs to talk to you.”

Arthur never talked to him at parties; not until he had played the perfect host to everyone else. Then while Gwen was shooing the last stragglers out the door, Arthur would pull Merlin into the family quarters for a cosy shite-talking session about everyone who had just left. That shouldn’t happen for hours yet.

But there Arthur was, pushing through a clump of partygoers to reach them. His eyes were wide with alcohol and mild alarm as he reached past his wife to make a grab for Merlin’s arm.

“There you are,” he shouted with beery breath right into Merlin’s face. “I need to talk to you.”

“So I heard,” Merlin shouted back. “Are you sure this is the best time? You seem rather drunk.”

“I am not drunk, Merlin. You are late.”

Arthur’s grip on his arm tightened, and Merlin was dragged around Gwaine and back out the door. As he stumbled over the threshold, he got a glimpse of Gwen pulling Gwaine into the heart of the party. His wingman was lost to him, and he sighed. “Look, Arthur, I know everyone thinks I need help getting over Morgana, but it’s barely been a year since she left, and I don’t think—”

“She’s here. Morgana. She’s back, and she’s here right now.”

All the sound and oxygen seemed to get sucked out of the air around them. Merlin’s heart pulled it all into his chest, then released it all with the next beat. It pulsed out of him in a concentrated wave of emotionally powered magic, instantly taking out two streetlights and the front porch lamp. Inside the house, he heard a series of loud pops—and then the music fell silent.

Arthur, prepared, clung to the door knob with grim determination as the rattling door fought to slam out of his grip. “And this is why I wanted you outside before I told you,” he said.

“Right.” Merlin inhaled, steadied himself with a lungful of prickly cold air. “Good strategy. Needed better execution.”

“That’s fair.”

They stood in silence for a moment, until the door stopped rattling and Arthur was able to pull it closed behind them. Finally, Merlin cleared his throat. “So she’s visiting for Christmas? You could have said before.”

“Come now, Merlin. You really think I’d do that to you? She just showed up tonight, out of the blue.”

Merlin dug his phone out of his coat pocket, ready to deliver some snark about modern communication devices. But there on the lock screen were the notifications—five missed calls each from Arthur and Gwen, and a pile of unread text messages.

Arthur made a smug noise in the back of his throat. “Yes, imagine our surprise that you didn’t pick up your phone. And were over an hour late.”

Heart still pounding, Merlin shrugged, too discombobulated for one of his usual elaborate excuses. “Gwaine,” he summed up, and Arthur nodded, long accustomed to both of them.

“Well, we were a little busy, and to be fair, Morgana said she needed to talk to you first before she said much to anyone else. She’s back in the garden. Take the side gate—if you go through the house, everyone’s going to want to give you their opinion and you’ll never make it.”

“What, you’re not going to give me your opinion? That seems rather uncharacteristic.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Arthur slung an arm around Merlin’s neck in almost the same gesture Gwaine had used. “Look, you and Morgana are my favourite people, after Gwen. I want you both here, and I want you both happy. But only you can figure that out. So… go figure it out.”

“Cheers.” Merlin started to pull away, then stopped. “And, er, sorry. About—”

Arthur followed the wave of Merlin’s hand toward the house, where the music had resumed at a much, much lower volume. “Oh. No. I owe you one. I’m pretty sure we were deafening our guests, but there was nothing I could do about it. But you--Gwen can’t kill you in your sleep.”

“If you say so.” Merlin reached up and gave Arthur’s arm a squeeze before he ducked out from under it. “Wish me luck.”

He didn’t wait for Arthur’s answer. His feet were already carrying him around the side of the house. Morgana would have felt his magical outburst. She would be expecting him.

Normally, the Pendragons’ large garden would be filled with partygoers, willing to brave the cold for a quieter place to chat, counting on Gwen and Arthur’s generous open bar to keep them warm. But right now, there was only occupant, perched on a bench under the fairy lights, dark eyes trained on Merlin the moment he turned the corner.

“Hello, sweetheart,” she said.

Her words carried to his ears on a ripple of magic, but unlike the magically amplified music, her voice was sweet and cool and welcome. He was angry with her. God, was he angry with her. And the wound inside him that had been festering for a year was already starting to knit and heal after a mere moment in her presence. He’d always been a fool for her.

He kept his steps deliberately even as he crossed the patio. “How was the journey back from France? Did you take the Eurostar, or broom it?”

Her head tilted, delicately. “Well, I had luggage, so.”

“Ah. Of course.” He sat down on the neighboring bench, body angled cautiously towards her.

“You’re angry with me. Of course.” Morgana wore an unfamiliar, dark purple coat with deep pockets. Both her hands were plunged down into the pockets, giving her a bashful air that Merlin recognized as pure illusion.

Merlin shrugged one shoulder. “You dumped me less than a minute after I proposed. For an internship.”

“Apprenticeship.”

“So I’m still stinging a bit. Still mildly peeved.” The anger was already lessening, though. She was here. God, she was here. “How is the old internship going?”

“Apprenticeship. And it’s over.”

His heart jumped a little without his permission. “A five-year gig, done in a year? Were you just that brilliant, or was studying under Morgause not everything you hoped?”

Her hands, still buried in her coat pockets, moved restlessly as she considered her answer. “Some of both, I’d like to think. Also, I’m not half the witch I thought I was.”

“What?” Merlin’s spine snapped straight with indignation. “Is that what that Morgause told you? How dare she.”

Morgana actually giggled at that, and something fluttered in Merlin’s stomach. Just as it had the first time Morgana had stuck her hand out to him and conjured a bundle of wildflowers, so many years ago—and so many times since.

“Always my knight in shining armour. And speaking of—” Morgana’s smile widened as she nodded towards the house. “Am I right that I have you to thank for that mercy?”

“It was an accident,” Merlin protested, though his lips were already twitching into a grin. “But it also felt like my civic duty.”

“Oh God, we created a monster, didn’t we?” Her eyes and mouth grew comically round, and Merlin finally broke into laughter. It was so hard to resist Morgana’s charm; he could not remember why he ever tried.

When their laughter faded, the silence that remained was tense, but not without comfort. Merlin finally took a deep breath and faced her head on. “Why are you here, Morgana? No riddles, please.”

She shifted on her bench and dug her hands deeper into her coat pockets. “Morgause is a great witch, and a great teacher. She believes that to be a great witch, one must belong only to the magic. Connection to other humans is a detriment. Especially…love.”

“We’ve had this conversation before,” he reminded her, voice roughening despite his best efforts at keeping it steady. “Did you think I’d ever forget it?”

“The point, Merlin, is that she was wrong. Magic is a cold, ugly thing without love. And I was wrong to ever believe her. I knew better. Or I should have, because I had you.”

Merlin’s throat was only getting tighter. “Morgana, what do you—”

Her chin went up, face setting in Pendragon pride. “I can’t ask you to forgive me, because what I did to you was unforgivable. I can’t ask you to take me back like nothing happened. All I can ask is if—”

In the smoothest move of his life, he shifted onto her bench and silenced her with a kiss. Her lips were as warm and soft as they had always been. The familiar taste of her mouth and her lipstick settled the year-long turmoil inside him. “I forgive you. You don’t have to ask. You never did.”

“Oh, thank God,” she breathed against his lips. “The rest of that speech was truly terrible. I was counting on you not letting me get through it.”

A few minutes later, a loud blast of music boomed out of the house, accompanied by cries of dismay from the guests less afraid of Gwen’s wrath. Out in the garden, no one noticed at all.


End file.
